Gemotions

He found himself rooted to the worn Persian rug, his mouth agape. The old man, his grandfather, was proposing to part with the pocket watch. It had been his father's, and then his. A legacy. He'd always assumed it would be his when his grandfather passed.

The words tumbled out of his grandfather’s mouth, a string of financial necessities, the reasons for this unthinkable act. The air in the room felt thick, heavy, difficult to breathe. He felt a peculiar pressure in his head, a dull ache that seemed to be expanding with each syllable.

His grandfather, noticing his grandson's frozen pose, patted his arm. “It's just a thing, lad," he said, his voice softer now. But the words offered no comfort.